


if he, if he

by idolrapper (wonwoo)



Category: EXO (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Definitely Not a Catboy AU, M/M, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonwoo/pseuds/idolrapper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BAEKHYUN’S HOUSEMATE CRITERIA (SHORT VER.):<br/>1) Likes dogs.<br/>2) Dog likes you.<br/>3) Respects masturbation decorum (ie. minimal noise, dealing with one’s own laundry, no peeking without consent et cetera).<br/>4) Can cook more than one dish.<br/>5) Laughs at Baekhyun's jokes.</p><p>Taehyung fits the bill, somewhat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if he, if he

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fairyminseok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairyminseok/gifts).



> written for btsx 2016!
> 
> thank you to r for the beta ♡

Baekhyun’s had a string of housemates. There was Jongdae, his first, college-roommate-turned-best-friend. Kihyun, during Baekhyun’s final year, who kept their room spotless. Joonmyun, Jongdae’s boyfriend, who took a newly-graduated Baekhyun in for 25% rent, and kept their house a pig sty. Eunji, Jongdae’s ex, which wasn’t _awkward_ per se, but—okay it was a little awkward, but she was perfect. Jae was just—we don’t speak about Jae. 

And the list goes on. The point is, Baekhyun’s never been without. 

“It’s been six months,” Minseok says, over the phone, “Aren’t you just a little bit lonely?” 

“Me? Lonely? Never,” Baekhyun scoffs. He turns the stove down, and stirs his noodles, phone tucked precariously between his shoulder and ear. 

“So, that’s a yes then,” Minseok says, a touch too high-pitched. 

His concern has ulterior motives, teeth. “What do you want?” Baekhyun narrows his eyes at an oil spot on the wall. 

“Nothing—” 

“Hyung.” 

“Hear me out,” Minseok sighs, taking a breath deep enough that it’s audible to Baekhyun, “Chanyeol told me that Jooheon said that Kihyun said that Yoongi needs to cash in a favour, for a friend. Or a cousin? Anyway—” 

“And Yoongi couldn’t call me?” Baekhyun laughs, in disbelief. Nutella, his dachshund, trots figure eights around his legs, yapping for attention. 

“Everyone unanimously agreed I should ask you.” 

That snatches the snarky response out of Baekhyun’s mouth, and makes his stomach flip with curiosity. He's pretty obliging, usually. 

Minseok takes Baekhyun's silence as his cue to elaborate. "Yoongi's friend-cousin, Taehyung, just moved up from Daegu. I don't know the whole story, but there was some mix-up with his work and accommodation and he needs a place to stay, for free, just until he gets back on his feet." 

"For free?" Baekhyun echoes, lamely. 

"I know it's a lot to ask, Baekhyun, you don’t have to agree to it, but—" 

"I'm the only one with a spare bedroom?" finishes Baekhyun.

“Right.”

Byun Baekhyun doesn't get lonely, but sitting on his kitchen floor, stove flaming above him, his fat dog making a throne of his lap, he _feels_ lonely. "Alright," he says, after a moment, "Text me his number." 

"Already done," Minseok says, and Baekhyun's phone pings accordingly. 

Over the phone, Minseok’s muffled voice is saying _Chanyeol, he agreed!_

Baekhyun bites back a laugh when Minseok removes his hand from the speaker and tells him, “You’re a great guy, Baekhyun.”

“Tell me about it, hyung,” he sighs, grinning. Nutella barks her agreement. The company you keep, you know.

“I’ll let you go now, but keep me updated!” Minseok sounds far too cheery for someone who doesn’t even know this Taehyung fellow, but Baekhyun doesn’t comment on it, and the call cuts out.

Baekhyun shoots off a non-committal _taehyung-ssi? this is byun baekhyun_. 

He considers saying something else when a reply comes back: _hi!!! ty for getting in touch with me_.

Baekhyun’s head lolls against the cupboard and he sucks on his bottom lip, deliberating. _nbd, i heard abt ur situation :c do u wanna come check out the apartment this weekend?_

_i’d love to TT___TT_

Baekhyun pushes himself up, and turns off his ramen.

 

 

Like clockwork, Baekhyun goes for drinks with Jongdae on Friday. 

"So, Minseok told me," Jongdae starts, slipping into the seat opposite Baekhyun's.

"Yah, you're all a bunch of gossips," Baekhyun whines. "I've told you, start a wives' knitting club." 

Jongdae rolls his eyes. "Yoongi's friend-cousin, huh? Is he cute? Are you fucking? When did you become so charitable?"

" _No_ to all of those questions," Baekhyun insists. "I've never met the guy. I haven't even made a solid decision, anyway." 

Jongdae sips on his G&T, looking smug, and doesn't say anything. Baekhyun steers the conversation elsewhere.

 

 

There’s a knock on Baekhyun’s door, Saturday morning. Baekhyun, currently invested in some kid’s cartoon playing on the television, pauses, tablespoon poised to shovel the last dregs of his cereal into his open mouth.

“Coming!” Baekhyun yells out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He leaves the bowl in the sink on the way to the front door, and absentmindedly smooths down the creases in his sweats.

The view through the peephole is of a neck and collarbones, and nice ones at that, but they don’t give much away. He’s been worried sick about Taehyung all week, despite Yoongi’s dozens of reassuring texts. Baekhyun is cool with all sorts of characters, domestic quirks and all, but he knows virtually nothing about this one.

Baekhyun is worried, but he’s not scared, so he turns the key and opens the door.

“Baekhyun-ssi?” comes a nervous-sounding voice. “Good morning.”

Baekhyun peeks around the door, glancing up at the guy and—he’s tall, first of all. He’s wearing a loose t-shirt and light denim jeans, and the same boxy grin as Baekhyun’s. And he’s _hot_ , like real hot. “Mornin’, Taehyung,” Baekhyun says, sticking out a hand. “Come inside.”

Taehyung toes his sneakers off, leaving them by the doormat. His eyes are wide and slender and dark as they meander across the picture frames on the walls. Baekhyun shuts the door and watches him, unsure of what to say, which is a change in itself. 

In what may be an icebreaker disguised as a hazard, Nutella toddles her derriere into the corridor and proceeds to embark on the most unceremonious of barkfests. She lunges at Taehyung, faster than Baekhyun’s seen her move in forever, and starts to nip at his bare ankles.

A horrified laugh escapes Baekhyun. “Nutella!” he yells. The split-second window of Nutella’s hesitation is enough for Baekhyun to reach down and scoop her up into his arms. “I’m sorry,” Baekhyun directs at Taehyung.

“I’ve never met a dog that didn’t like me,” Taehyung laughs, and then seems to think better of it, face crumpling. “That sounded obnoxious.”

“She’s not usually like this,” Baekhyun offers. “Isn’t that right, baby?” He holds Nutella up, pouting. Nutella huffs, and tries to wriggle herself out of Baekhyun’s hands.

“She’s temperamental,” Taehyung observes, “Or maybe she doesn’t trust me. You should listen to your dog.”

“Don’t be silly,” Baekhyun says, squatting to let Nutella down. “You sound like you walked out of a young adult novel.”

“How would you know?”

“It’s light reading,” Baekhyun says, defensively, “This house is a judge-free zone, just so you know.”

“Not judging,” Taehyung says, holding his palms up. Baekhyun likes him already.

He stands up, almost slipping on the polished hardwood, but Taehyung reaches out to grab his arm. “Thanks,” he mutters, gently shoving Nutella in the direction of the living room with his foot before she gets any ideas. Taehyung lets go. “I’ll make coffee. Or tea? Whatever you’d like, and you can have a look around.”

“Tea’s fine.” Taehyung follows Baekhyun into the tiny but tidy living area. “Your curtains are nice.” They’re not nice. They’re ratty and a horrible shade of puke. Baekhyun tells him to shut up and sit. 

Taehyung obediently sinks into the old patchwork couch Baekhyun found on a pavement two years back and had Chanyeol fix up. That was back when the flat was empty and lonely, and now one Jung Eunji later, it’s cluttered and charming and still lonely, but it’s enough.

Baekhyun busies himself in the conjoined kitchen, while Taehyung idly watches the cartoon Baekhyun left on and Nutella naps under the coffee table. Baekhyun glances up once he puts the tea to brew to see Taehyung rubbing at the redenned teeth marks on the ankle Nutella managed to do the most damage to.

“Where are you staying?” Baekhyun asks.

Taehyung jolts. “Uh, a hostel.” He stops when Baekhyun brings his mug over. Though it burns his tongue on the first sip, the tea seems to work its social lubricant magic because Taehyung starts to ramble. “I was hired by this animal clinic over the phone, and I dropped everything to come to Seoul. The job offer was either a scam or the place shut down or something, but I was left hanging.” He frowns at his mug. “It was a naive and dumb move, but I can’t just give up and go home now, can I?”

Stubborn, like Baekhyun. “An animal clinic?” Baekhyun prods. That explains the dog knowledge. 

“I studied to be a vet,” he says, gazing sadly at Nutella. “Anyway,” he continues, “I have enough savings to keep staying at the hostel. Seokjin hyung had a _fit_ when he saw the place though. He offered me his couch for a while but that’d probably make me feel even worse than staying _here_ , in an actual bedroom. No offence.”

Baekhyun laughs through a mouthful of tea. “None taken.”

“I only found out he practically blackmailed Yoongi into contacting you the other day. Look, you really don’t have to, you know, take me in. I’ll get by fine—”

“After that sob story?” Baekhyun raises an eyebrow, tone playful. “I don’t think so. But,” he drags out the vowel, “You might wanna see the bedroom layout. It’s a deal-breaker, I’m telling you.”

“What do you mean?”

Baekhyun leads Taehyung into the spare bedroom he’s been using as a storage room. He’d spent a day and a half tidying but only managed to fix the wonky bed and reach an acceptable level of organised chaos before he gave up on wrangling this complete junkyard of a room. Taehyung doesn’t seem bothered though, and he smiles when Baekhyun announces, “This is your room.” He points at another door, opposite to the one leading to the living room. “And that’s my room.” 

Going to push the door open, Baekhyun pauses and does a lightning-quick mental inventory of his bedroom, the only room he didn’t have time to clean this week. His bed isn’t made and there might be a pair of dirty boxers on the ground, or his dildo from last night if Taehyung’s especially unlucky, lucky, whatever. Baekhyun walks in anyway, shameless, and feels only a _little_ bad when Taehyung gives the room a once-over and flushes three shades of red. 

“So, I have to go through your room to get to mine, and you have to go through mine to use the bathroom.” He points at the bathroom door next to his bookshelf. 

“Oh,” Taehyung says, patting his warm cheek with his palm. “That isn’t so bad. Have you _seen_ the shithole I’m staying at? I don’t have a shower.”

Baekhyun pretends to sniff Taehyung, making a face. “Makes sense. Guess this place is pretty five-star in comparison, huh? I’ll have my door open usually, so you can come and go whenever.”

“Do you have any rules?” Taehyung asks, surveying the bathroom. 

“Do your own dishes,” Baekhyun says. “That’s it.”

Nodding, Taehyung replies, “Fair enough. I don’t have the right to be picky anyway.”

Baekhyun’s brain goes soft. “Hey,” he says, lightly punching Taehyung’s arm. “You’ll be okay.”

Taehyung smiles his square smile, and Baekhyun smiles his back and means it.

 

 

On Monday, Taehyung moves in. Baekhyun comes home with Jongdae after work to find him coated in icing sugar. 

“Thank you cookies,” he explains, with a sheepish grin.

He then excuses himself to the bathroom, tank top clinging to his back. Jongdae turns to Baekhyun and mouths _fuck me_.

“That’s my line,” Baekhyun grumbles back.

 

 

On Tuesday, Taehyung knocks to enter Baekhyun’s room. The door swings open on the second rap. 

“The cookies didn’t work out yesterday,” begins Taehyung. Baekhyun rolls onto his stomach and regards him. “So I got you something else.” He holds up a glass jar filled with—Baekhyun squints—fortune cookies? “Do you wanna open one?”

They sit cross-legged on Baekhyun’s floor, and crack open a fortune cookie each. Baekhyun unfurls the paper inside. The words _GET HAPPY_ shout at him. Offended, he turns it over. The underside is blank.

“What does yours say?” Baekhyun enquires. 

Taehyung holds his paper up for Baekhyun to read: _When one door closes, another opens_.

 

 

On Wednesday, Taehyung forgets to bring his clothes with him to the bathroom. He tiptoes across Baekhyun’s room, towel wrapped around his waist and hair dripping down the dip of his spine.

Baekhyun lets his reading glasses slip down the slope of his nose, sticks two fingers into his mouth, and wolf-whistles.

 

 

On Thursday, the flat is dark. No Taehyung. No note. No big deal, because Taehyung is a human being with a life. 

Baekhyun undoes his tie, draping it across the back of the couch, grabs a cold beer from the fridge and traipses out onto the balcony. He gazes at the skyline through sleepy eyes. Summer's coming, and with it will come sticky heat and late nights bathed in afterlight and the iced lemonade from down the road Baekhyun's been craving all year and the _school holidays_.

A series of giggles fill the silence. "Taehyung-ah," a woman cries, "I'm too old for this."

Baekhyun's eyes slide over to the balcony next-door. Taehyung has his arms around the ahjumma who often brings Baekhyun _the_ best _ggul tteok_ in a ceramic bowl painted with tiny bluebirds. He's never _waltzed_ with her before, though.

"Nonsense," he hears Taehyung say. A jazz number filters in through the door as they glide airily across the cramped balcony.

Baekhyun watches him, mouth around the rim of his bottle, awestruck.

"Brace yourself, Insook-noona," Taehyung warns. Then, he _dips_ her, arms strong and steady, smile charmingly sweet. He glances up, as though he feels Baekhyun's gaze on him, and winks.

 

 

On Friday, Baekhyun meets Jongdae at their pub.

"How's your kept boy?" Jongdae asks.

"Infuriating," Baekhyun says, dreamily. "Wait, he's not my—" he backtracks, but Jongdae's already laughing.

 

 

On Saturday, Baekhyun overhears Taehyung jerking one out. He lies on his mattress, stiff as a corpse, listening to Taehyung's heavy breaths, the wet slide of his fingers. Baekhyun’s dick fattens in his boxers like he's fifteen again, but he ignores it, and doesn't notice his door left slightly ajar, an afterthought.

 

 

On Sunday, Nutella almost bites Taehyung's finger off. She's watching the telly, and when Taehyung reaches out to inconspicuously pet her, she snarls, snapping her teeth. Taehyung pretends to nurse his finger, sticking out his bottom lip. 

"You tried," Baekhyun offers, from the kitchen.

 

 

"How were the kids today?" Taehyung asks. He's wearing a pair of swimming goggles as he dices an onion. Every night for the past month, Taehyung has insisted on cooking dinner. He tried with laundry too, but Baekhyun had to step in when he started ironing his button-down shirt one morning ("You're not my housewife," Baekhyun says. Taehyung pouts, and Baekhyun adds, "But you'd be a cute one if you were, I _guess_."). 

Culinary skills aside (he's improving, he really is), Baekhyun appreciates the gesture. He comes home beat every evening and doesn't even think he could muster up the energy to cook. He's the science teacher at the local elementary school, and works alongside Jongdae, who is in charge of the music department. With the holidays approaching, Baekhyun is bogged down with marking and report write-ups, and he barely has time to take a single bite at lunch. 

"Horrors," Baekhyun discloses, rotating from side-to-side on the kitchen stool. "Always are this time of year. Like animals that can sense a change in weather.” 

"Taste this," Taehyung says, holding out a spoonful of bolognese for Baekhyun. 

Baekhyun kitten-licks a taste. Taehyung's mouth twists, waiting for the verdict. "Tomato-y." 

"Thanks." He grins. "You know, if I didn't get into vet school, I would've gone the education route."

"Puppies, kids, same difference," Baekhyun says, shrugging. 

"At least animals can't talk back," Taehyung argues, waving his wooden spoon at Baekhyun. A habit he's picked up from all the old lady neighbours he spends his time courting. 

"Have you met Nutella?" says Baekhyun. Nutella, sitting by the window, yaps when she hears her name.

"You're right." Taehyung scowls half-heartedly, glaring in her direction. "My worst enemy."

"I won't let you duel my dog, Taehyung," Baekhyun sighs.

"Oh, don't worry, hyung," Taehyung says cheerily, "She'll come to me."

 

 

Another month goes by like a light flickering to life.

"What time is it!" Baekhyun sing-songs into Jongdae's ear, suspended on his shoulders like a hoodie. 

"Summer fucking time," Jongdae grumbles, dragging the deadweight of Baekhyun's body down the pavement.

"You can say _fucking_ because there aren't any kids around," Baekhyun slurs, giggling, and louder, "No fucking kids!"

"Keep it down. We’re home," Jongdae hisses, shrugging Baekhyun off of himself. He props him up against the wall next to the elevator. "Do you want me to take you up?"

Baekhyun bats Jongdae's hand away. "Go away. Don't wanna see your dumb face for a week."

Jongdae barks out a laugh, having none of it.

"Gimme a kiss, before you leave me alone," Baekhyun garbles, grabbing Jongdae's face with his clammy palms. "Don't leave me alone."

Jongdae leans over, giving him a sloppy peck on the mouth. "You're not alone, Baekhyunnie. You've got Taehyung."

Baekhyun hums, "Taehyung. I'm gonna—" He trips into the elevator, turning back to salute at Jongdae. "Gonna go find him!"

"Fighting!" Jongdae calls out, figure disappearing in the gap of the door.

The apartment is dark, which isn't unusual. Taehyung always turns out the lights when Baekhyun's not home. What is unusual are the hiccupy sobs coming from the living room. "Tae?" Baekhyun tries.

No answer, but a sniffle. Baekhyun rubs his eyes, adjusting to the darkness, and peers over the back of the couch to see Taehyung curled up on the floor, Nutella in his arms. 

"Hyung, she likes me," Taehyung wails, the statement bringing on a fresh wave of tears. 

"Oh," Baekhyun says, his throat constricting at the scene. “She does?” He's never been real good at comforting people. Not like Jongdae, anyway. 

After a few minutes of Taehyung sobbing into Nutella's fur and Baekhyun leaning over the couch to pat his back in a perfunctory manner, Taehyung calms down, and gurgles, "I—I made dinner if you're hungry." 

Baekhyun dutifully microwaves the stir-fry and brings a bowl and two pairs of chopsticks over to the sofa. He places the bowl between them, sinking onto the rug next to Taehyung. 

"You okay?" Baekhyun coos, combing a hand through Taehyung's hair. When Taehyung goes to wipe his leaking nose with the back of his hand, Baekhyun grabs his wrist and offers his shirtsleeve instead. Comforting people is grossly satisfying, Baekhyun finds. 

“Is the food nice?” Taehyung deflects. Meanwhile, Nutella is squeezing herself through Taehyung's arm, popping out the other end and trotting away as though she's already bored of the conversation.

"Good talk, Nutella," Baekhyun drawls around his chopsticks.

Taehyung huffs a chuckle at that, jabbing at the stir-fry.

"You didn't answer my question, Taehyung," Baekhyun reminds him. 

"I'm okay," Taehyung says, eyes trained on the food. "I was caught off guard, is all."

Baekhyun leans over, head swimming with the motion—yeah, he's still piss-drunk—and brushes his knuckles against the underside of Taehyung's chin. 

Taehyung looks up. His lips quirk in a half-hearted smile. "I'm a little homesick too, I guess."

Baekhyun pokes a chopstick into Taehyung's mouth, hiking up the corner of his lips in a smile. "Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks distantly, mesmerised by the stretch of Taehyung's mouth. 

"Another time. Don't wanna cry again," Taehyung admits. He rests his chin on his knees. "Tell me about your day."

Sometimes, Taehyung looks at him like he's someone worth knowing everything about. It makes Baekhyun's pulse pound in his temples, deafening.

He tells Taehyung about his day.

 

 

Over the summer, Taehyung starts going out more, leaving the house for entire days, and Baekhyun almost dies of curiosity. 

"What did you get up to today?" he makes small talk one afternoon, switching on the kettle. 

"Walked Nutella," Taehyung mutters evasively.

" _All_ day?" Baekhyun questions. Then, after a moment, "Hey, Nutella doesn't even let you walk her!" he yells at Taehyung's retreating back.

"Girlfriend? Boyfriend?" Baekhyun tries, easy smile on his face, when Taehyung comes home with a scratch on his jaw and hair a damp bird's nest.

"I was visiting Kihyun hyung and Yoongi hyung," Taehyung explains quickly. "They got a new cat."

Baekhyun eventually gives up on asking questions of Taehyung, when he starts to say things like _period romance book club_ ("Oh, do you like Brontë?" Baekhyun asks, to which Taehyung replies, "What's a Brontë?"), _entered a rap battle_ ("You _rap_?"), and _went Christmas shopping_ ("It's July.").

He turns to others.

"He came over for tea," say Kihyun and Yoongi.

"I took him to a wedding," Seokjin insists.

"We went to an acrobatics class with Jung Wheein," Jimin says pleasantly. 

"Yoongi's friend-cousin? How would I know?" Chanyeol sounds confused, but his eyes are shifty.

"Listen to your heart," says Namjoon, the bartender who Taehyung's befriended on the occasional Friday he accompanies Baekhyun and Jongdae. "I'll give you a hint." Namjoon leans in close, and stage-whispers, " _Lonely whale_ ," which is a useless hint, as hints go.

Baekhyun corners Taehyung in the kitchen, one morning.

“You’re not obliged to be there, but,” Baekhyun begins, “I’m having some friends over for dinner tonight, and you make a mean rhubarb crumble.” He reaches around Taehyung to grab his mug, backing away to sit on the counter-top, a welcome chill on the backs of his thighs.

“Anyone I know?” Taehyung asks, eyes darting down to watch Baekhyun’s fingers fiddle with the hem of his oversized t-shirt. 

“It’s a small world,” is all Baekhyun says. The heels of his feet make a solid _thud_ when he hops off the counter. 

“Don’t think you’re slick, hyung!” Taehyung yells at Baekhyun’s retreating back. “That’s my t-shirt!”

 

 

As always, Taehyung doesn’t let Baekhyun cook dinner.

“Just rest,” he insists, shoving Baekhyun onto the couch and placing the remote in his hand.

“I’m not _tired_ ,” Baekhyun rebuts, lip curling. “You don’t owe me this, Taehyung.”

The way Taehyung tosses the fry pan can only be described as a touch too manic. “I do—” he snaps. He closes his eyes, rubbing at the splatter of hot oil on his cheek. “I _do_ owe you. Just let me do this, Baekhyun hyung.”

“Well, you’re dumb,” Baekhyun spits out, before he can stop himself.

“And you’re dumber for taking me in,” Taehyung says quietly. Baekhyun is stricken, eyes wide. “I don’t want your pity. Let me cook.”

Ten minutes later, the doorbell rings. With Chanyeol comes Minseok, and with Minseok, Jongdae, and with Jongdae, Joonmyun, and Kihyun and Yoongi are probably a single entity at this point. Small world indeed.

They play nice as host and co-host, but Baekhyun just wants tonight to be over so he can apologise. Taehyung’s rhubarb crumble is a hit, and they wash it down with beers and the fortune cookies still ornamenting the coffee table. 

“Your golden opportunity is coming soon!” Chanyeol whoops, waving his paper around. 

“Everything happens for a reason,” Yoongi says, muttering _gee, thanks_ under his breath. 

Jongdae leans over Joonmyun’s lap on the sofa to show Baekhyun his fortune: _The greatest things in life are free_. They share a look, and Jongdae reaches up to whisper into Baekhyun’s ear, “You seem tense tonight. You both do.”

“Had an argument,” Baekhyun admits, watching Taehyung show Minseok the new tricks he’s been teaching an unenthusiastic Nutella. “Nothing major.”

“Okay,” Jongdae says, tone seemingly concerned, “You should apologise.”

“You should,” Joonmyun pitches in.

Baekhyun narrows his eyes at them both. “Why do you think _I_ should be the one to apologise?” They’re right, but _still_ , it’s the principle of the thing.

“You’re older,” they both chorus.

Baekhyun throws up his hands in exasperated surrender.

 

 

Sometime after 2AM, Baekhyun knocks on Taehyung’s door, on his bedroom-side. The baby hairs on his arm glow in the thin stripes of moonlight cast through the blinds; dark, light, dark, light. He holds his breath.

“Come in.” Taehyung’s voice is muffled with sleep.

Baekhyun turns the handle and steps over the threshold. “Hey,” he whispers, approach hesitant and gentle. He hovers over the bed. “Can I?”

Taehyung sits up a fraction and nods; he’s shirtless, lean and golden. For a split-second, Baekhyun thinks he could _eat_ him. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, instead. “I didn’t think. I know you don’t want me to treat you like a charity case. Maybe you were one at first, but not anymore—”

Taehyung stretches forward to grab Baekhyun’s fingers, and then his wrist, tugging him onto the bed next to him.

“I know, hyung,” Taehyung says, tone solemn. “I’ll forgive you if we cuddle.”

Baekhyun stares at him, vaguely wondering if he’s having him on. Taehyung stares back, but halfway through what becomes a blinking contest, a yawn splits his face, and Baekhyun concedes, “Only if I’m the big spoon.”

And that’s how Baekhyun spends the night with an arm slung over Taehyung’s waist, face buried in his hair, breathing in his warmth—his scent is peppermint and cinnamon and sweat, and Baekhyun’s brain goes fuzzy with it. 

They sleep.

 

 

Baekhyun has a habit of singing in the shower. It's his stage, a graveyard for his childhood dream of becoming a pop-star. He rinses shampoo suds out of his hair, belting some ballad Taehyung's fond of listening to.

He forgets the lyrics one minute in, momentarily considers jerking off until he decides he’s too lazy, and starts to sing Justin Bieber, beat drop and everything. On the other side of the door, Nutella howls along with him.

Five minutes and a rendition of Taeyeon’s latest release later, Baekhyun cuts off the spray and towels himself dry. He wipes across the condensation on the mirror, humming, and grabs his toothbrush. His knuckles graze Taehyung’s pink one, right beside his. There’s a transient moment there; it’s like there’s an hourglass, and Baekhyun is the sand, falling by the second.

He opens the door, or tries to; there’s a solid barrier behind it and a very Taehyung-like yelp. Baekhyun hears him scramble to his feet, and _then_ he opens the door. 

“What were you doing?” he asks. 

“Nothing,” Taehyung says, grinning wide with overcompensation. 

“You were listening to me sing, weren’t you?” 

“No!”

Baekhyun stares, hip cocked.

“Yes,” admits Taehyung, “I love your voice?” 

“Come sit,” Baekhyun says, dragging Taehyung over to his bed and mostly ignoring how his heart hiccuped with Taehyung’s confession. “I have to ask you something.”

“Okay?”

Baekhyun leans in close. “Are you,” he starts, sounding serious, “Yoongi’s cousin or friend?”

“What the hell, hyung,” Taehyung exclaims. “We’re friends. Do you think everyone in Daegu’s related? How small-minded of you.”

Baekhyun laughs. “I see.” Taehyung watches his mouth, and Baekhyun watches his, making a decision.

“Is there something on my face?” Taehyung asks.

“Nope.”

“What are you doing, then?” 

Baekhyun can feel his warm breath on his face. His mouth tingles with the proximity. 

“I wonder,” he says, smiling, and surges in.

 

 

Taehyung isn't home when Baekhyun returns from a late night grocery trip. Baekhyun stumbles into the apartment, flicking on the lights with his chin, and heaves the plastic bags onto the kitchen countertop, dropping the miscellaneous paperwork strewn there in the process.

Kneeling down to clear the mess, his brain flounders inside his skull. He leans his forehead against the cool of the drawers, taking tiny gasps of breath. Nutella rushes to his side. She rubs her cheek into Baekhyun's thigh, whimpering. 

"I'm okay," Baekhyun mumbles. "Just dehydrated." Just saying the word hits him with a thirst so strong it makes him buckle over. He pushes himself up to lean under the tap. The angle is awkward, but he takes big gulps until he can't anymore, and slides back onto the floor, wiping his mouth. Sitting there, t-shirt soaked in water, he feels so alone.

"Nutella, stop," he calls out, watching her nose through the pile of papers scattered across the floor. She picks up an object, her clenched teeth grinning at Baekhyun as she trots towards him and drops it at his feet.

It's an envelope, brimful but the exterior blank. Baekhyun rips through the seam with an index finger. Inside, he finds a bundle of cash, wrapped in a piece of paper on which is written, in Taehyung's chicken scratch: _4 month's rent. hyung, thank you. ♥_

"I'll kill you, Kim Taehyung," Baekhyun whispers to no one, face twisting in a wilful attempt not to cry.

Speak of the devil, the front door opens. Baekhyun stands up in haste. Taehyung rounds a corner. 

Baekhyun doesn’t kill him, but he does kiss him.

“Hi,” Taehyung breathes into Baekhyun’s mouth, “This is nice.”

Baekhyun yanks him in closer, and adds tongue into the equation. That shuts Taehyung up. 

“I could suck your dick right now,” Baekhyun says, when they take a breather. He wishes he’d turned on the AC. 

“Just ‘cause I paid you?” Taehyung counters, cheeks pink. 

“Cheeky,” Baekhyun says, and drops to his knees. He’s only three quarters-serious, but he's relieved when Taehyung nods.

“Tell me,” drawls Baekhyun, voice saccharine like he hadn’t been close to sobbing into Taehyung’s shoulder a moment ago, “how you,” he walks his fingers up Taehyung’s thigh, “did it.”

“Uh.” Taehyung blinks, gulps and his fingers quiver; triple combo. “Got a job as a vet tech, at the uh—aquarium?”

“The aquarium, huh?” Baekhyun says, tone buoyant. “I’ve always wanted to go on a date at an aquarium.”

“A date?” Taehyung gasps, when Baekhyun mouths his half-hard dick through his god-awful culottes. 

“Pick me up at seven,” Baekhyun says. He hooks a finger into Taehyung’s hemline, and tugs. 

“Okay,” Taehyung groans. “I don’t even own a car, but _okay_ , what the fuck.”

Baekhyun takes him into his mouth, Taehyung’s cockhead prodding the soft inside of his cheek, and slides down. Taehyung's dick thickens up until it stretches Baekhyun’s mouth wide, and Baekhyun _goes_ for it. He doesn’t tease, much, because Taehyung’s been so good to him and fuck, if he isn’t desperate to see him come. 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Taehyung babbles, eyes squeezed shut and hands fisted in Baekhyun’s hair. Baekhyun disengages a moment to swirl his tongue around the head, licking up the precome that dribbles down the tip.

“Taehyung,” Baekhyun says, firm. 

Taehyung looks down. His breath seems to catch in his throat. Baekhyun smiles, and pushes his mouth all the way down Taehyung’s cock again. Taehyung rubs his thumb over Baekhyun’s lip mole, and whimpers, close. “Can I—your face?”

Baekhyun pulls back obediently. He curls his fingers around the base of Taehyung’s dick and pumps. His cockhead is shiny and wet and red sliding through his fist. It’s a sight, Taehyung’s orgasm: he’s flush-faced and glassy-eyed, moaning almost soundlessly, and Baekhyun feels a hot rush in his gut, tongue poking out to lick up a trace of Taehyung's spunk when he's done. Taehyung groans. 

After, when they sink into Baekhyun’s bed boneless and half-asleep, Taehyung slurs into Baekhyun’s ear, “Can I stay tonight?” 

Baekhyun kisses the mole on the tip of his nose. “Always.”

Two days later, Baekhyun lets Taehyung fuck him into his mattress. Against the hollow of his throat, Taehyung asks, “Can I stay tonight?”

Taehyung takes Baekhyun to his aquarium, and shoots him finger-hearts through the glass wall of the tank. They come home, giddy, and Taehyung presses Baekhyun into the door, saying, “Can I stay tonight?”

“Can I stay tonight?” Taehyung asks, after Baekhyun holds his wrists tight on the patchwork couch and rides him until he can’t.

 _Can I stay tonight_ , Taehyung writes along Baekhyun’s spine, the time he’s fevered and bed-ridden, throat shot.

“What about tonight?” he asks, after walking Nutella (Baekhyun could cry, he's so proud), and kissing Baekhyun senseless when he returns.

“Tonight?” he asks, drunk and fucked out.

“Always,” Baekhyun replies. He reaches over to turn out the light.

**Author's Note:**

> i've never written baekhyun as the hyung in a r/s before, so it was quite a challenge making both him and taehyung true to life, especially since the premise is quite serious and they're two of the silliest ppl i know~ i hope it worked out, anyway!


End file.
